A/N: See, I said I had more than one idea after the latest episode. This is something which I haven't really dared do before but two years' worth of writing about those two would've inevitably lead up to this point.

Takes place during 5x04, in Israel, right after they drink in Eyal's house, and celebrate.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

They take a few more shots of the vodka – " L'Chaim, kosher vodka? Really?" – before Annie starts to feel its effect. It is not unpleasant, rather a smooth and warm buzz, starting at her toes and reaching into her head, making her feel lighter than air, something she hasn't felt in a while, isn't sure if she even has the right to feel so free.

The warm evening sun is setting and casts its last rays of golden sunshine right across the courtyard and over Eyal. She follows the play of light and shadow on his face carefully; the light seems to caress him, ease out the lines on his face. It also casts shadows over his eyes and his smile and that combination is appealing in its own right. He has always been attractive but something about Israel manages to make him even more so.

She smiles, content with herself, and stretches her arms out over her head, letting this inside warmth spread even further. A low hum escapes from the back of her throat and by the quick glance she sees Eyal throw her way, she knows he's heard it.

The knowledge that she is essentially walking on the knife's edge comes back to her but it's not scary anymore. If anything, it is exhilarating and she wonders if this is what it feels like to accept mortality, to know that anything is possible because everything could be lost.

"L'Chaim, neshema."

He's filled their glasses again and his voice wraps around her, smooth and even smokier than usually. There is something about speaking Hebrew which gives his voice the distinct quality she can't quite figure out and yet understands implicitly.

They clink glasses but she drinks only half of her own, mesmerized by him. Annie watches his closed eyes, his hand raised with the glass, the way his throat works as he swallows his drink and suddenly knows that this is the epiphany people experience when the shortness of their lives has been made clear to them. She doesn't want to lose to death; she wants to grab as much of life as she possibly can.

"You keep looking at me like..." Lost in her thoughts, she hasn't realized that Eyal's gaze is intently focused on her, as if trying to figure out some intricate puzzle.

"Like what?"

He shakes his head and mutters something in Hebrew she doesn't quite catch. But as he takes the bottle and, instead of re-filling, caps it, she understands exactly what he's doing.

"I'm not done with that yet." She gestures towards the bottle but he doesn't let himself be stopped.

"Oh, we are definitely done with that."

Eyal stands and takes the bottle back to the small cabinet. Looking at his retreating form, she is acutely aware of how much he is actually retreating – and not only from drinking with her.

"I look at you like what, Eyal?"

He stands with his back to her and doesn't turn around before giving his answer. "Like you shouldn't."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"You know exactly what that means, Annie. And that's why you should go to your room."

His words anger her; she is not a child to be told to leave.

"I may be dying slowly. The last thing I want to do is go to my room. I want to drink that vodka, I want to forget everything about myocarditis and nitrate injections and dying, and just to be!"

Now he turns around to look at her but his face is impassive, a stony mask no doubt crafted carefully to hide whatever he is really thinking or feeling.

His voice still scolds her and she hates it even more. "We shouldn't have been drinking in the first place. That was me, trying to...help but I might've made it worse. Just go and get some sleep, Annie. It will be better in the morning."

She stands too, and the way he leans back against the cabinet doesn't escape her notice, like she's someone to be feared.

"You were helping right until this fight started."

He gives her his best nonplussed expression. "I did not know we were fighting."

She advances on him slowly. "Why are you treating me like a child?"

"I'm not. You are my friend, Annie, and I want to help you."

Friend. For some reason that word strikes a chord within her, and makes her want to rebel against. It doesn't matter that she always lets herself think of him as a friend, and this is why she came here. It doesn't matter because she has no interest in his friendship in this moment.

"Then why don't you let me do what I want for a change?"

"Do as you please."

She reaches around him as if to take the bottle but only gets as far as planting her hand on the cabinet behind him. Without thought, without actually planning to, her other hand mirrors the movement so she effectively traps Eyal between herself and the cabinet. They both know he could leave at any moment and yet, he stays, letting her look up at his face.

"As I please?"

She whispers the words and looks right into his eyes. When once she would've thought them to be impassive and calculating, she now knows him well enough to see that he is fighting some inner struggle, contemplating her unspoken proposition.

"Do you know what you are doing, Annie?"

His voice is quiet and melancholic, like he doesn't want to break the tension rising between them. She can feel it hum around them, can feel that she's not the only one who should know better. His face is immersed in shadows, the rays of the sun almost completely disappeared from the courtyard, and it is mysterious in ways she hasn't fully considered before.

"I'm not drunk if that's what you're asking."

He raises his hand, ever so gently ghosting her fingers across her temple, over her cheek and under her jaw. Her skin tingles where he touches her, barely there.

"יָפֶה."

She smiles and leans into his hand, the warmth from it adding to the warmth burning inside of her, and spreading even further. His eyes fall on her smile, on her lips, and she feels the anticipation build, can feel her heart speed up. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips and she's fascinated by the glint of pure need in his eyes.

"Eyal..."

His name, whispered into the quiet around them should be the catalyst to pushing him move forward. Instead, it breaks the spell as he drops his hand and turns his gaze away from her. When he looks back at her, both of his hands fall on her shoulders and gently, but firmly, he pushes her away.

"We should really get some sleep."

He walks away from her before she has fully recovered from everything that almost transpired.

"Good night, Annie."

She replies quietly but he's already gone from her sight.

Annie manages to fall asleep for a few hours, but even that time of rest is filled with dreams of opportunities missed, chances lost. When she wakes, she feels more alone than in all of her time spent dead.

Early morning fills her room with a hazy rose light and she gets up to see the sun barely under the horizon.

Her eyes are then drawn to the courtyard as she hears movement and sees Eyal. He's moving around on the stone floor, feet quicker than she can keep up with and she realizes that he is working out.

When she liked to watch him drink the night before, it is no match for watching him practice what she presumes to be Krav Maga. There is an effortless agility to him as he moves, leaping and kicking. She's never seem him use much of the techniques he is demonstrating for her now but he's graceful and full of life.

It lasts but a minute until he suddenly stops and exhales. She must've caught him at the end of the training session because he stretches his muscles next. It's beauty in its rawest form, all masculine energy and power. She's transfixed until he stops and moves out of view, probably retreating to take a shower.

Her legs feel a bit unsteady when she walks away from the window. In this morning clarity she knows that he was right to stop her last night because she wasn't quite herself, wasn't thinking too clearly about the consequences of whatever action she might take.

And yet. Watching him made her also realize that it wasn't the alcohol which made him so irresistible last night, or her fear of dying, or anything else. It's just him, it has always been just him.

And in a second, she makes the decision to leap for a second time in a matter of hours.

Annie finds his room effortlessly, having remembered the layout the moment he showed her around the house. There isn't even a moment's hesitation as she knocks on the door.

Eyal isn't the least bit surprised when he opens the door which makes her wonder if he knew she was watching him earlier, and gives her a brilliant, social smile. His hair is wet from the recent shower. "Good morning, neshema. You are awake very early."

"Why did you stop me last night?"

She goes straight for the kill, not giving him one moment to fix his social parameters, to tune himself to ignore her. And it works because she clearly sees the surprise on his face, the sudden flash of regret, and the barest hint of longing.

"Because it is not right, Annie."

She smiles softly and steps closer, forcing him to take a step back and let her inside the room. "No. You thought I wasn't sober, thought that it was a momentary lapse in my judgment, so you did the honorable thing."

"It was."

"And because you think I couldn't really want it."

Now his eyes flash a bit more dangerously; he is catching up with her and realizing that her intentions are not quite as straightforward as her words suggest.

"Do you really want to be talking about this?"

"No. But I want you to listen to me when I tell you that it wasn't a moment of weakness. It wasn't a reaction to my diagnosis. It still isn't, and we both know it."

He purses his lips together but still doesn't budge. "What is and isn't doesn't really matter because we both know that this would be a very bad idea. You don't want to do anything you would later regret, Annie."

"Neshema." She smiles at his confusion; she's never used the word before. "What does it mean, Eyal? And don't pretend like you don't mean it when you say it."

He's quiet but she knows that he is weighing her arguments, trying to decide the merit in her words, to work out if all of it would be worth the risk she is proposing. So, she gives him one last push.

"I know you said it in jest the first time but now, it is so much more than that and I'm tired of you trying to hide behind your smiles and your gestures."

And with that, she is close enough to put her hands on his shoulders and lift herself up, to catch his lips with her own. For a moment, he is frozen and she gives him time; but it only takes the touch of her hand against his cheek to make him react. One of his hands pulls her closer by the waist while the other reaches into her hair. He surrounds her almost completely but she doesn't feel smothered, she feels loved.

His kisses are careful, yet insistent, polite, yet full of two years' worth of words, and feelings, and promises to come. It is easy to get lost in the heady feeling of him, in his spicy-sweet scent, in the strength of his body, and she does just that, surrendering herself fully and willingly.

When she starts unbuttoning his shirt, he pulls away from her but not fully, only to glance into her eyes. The fire she sees in his thrills her because she's never seen him lose himself like that, only imagined it.

"You do know what neshema means, don't you?" He asks her this in a hurried whisper, still tangled up in her, not willing to let go, but prepared to if she doesn't have the right answer.

Annie smiles. "It means that everything matters." And kisses him once again, slowly and with meaning.

When he leads them towards the bed, she gladly goes with him like she always does, eyes closed, head first, unwavering in her trust.

A/N: Yep. I went there. יָפֶה is Hebrew for beautiful. L'Chaim is an actual Israeli kosher vodka. Hope it wasn't too out of character for either of them.